


Clearing the Mist

by fireintheimpala (weboverload)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, I can't believe I'm writing a padawan crush fic but I swear it's Not Like That!, Inconsistent Tea Drinking, M/M, Slow Burn, Wise Jedi Master, Wise Jedi Padawan, if you can really call such a short story 'slow', no sex slaves but there are holo porn stars so at least the Galaxy's being put to use, prequels what prequels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:22:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weboverload/pseuds/fireintheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon has always believed that clarity and awareness are the fundamental tools through which all confusions between beings can be resolved. When Obi-Wan comes to him with his Padawan crush, Qui-Gon puts his beliefs into action. The results are as unpredictable as the Force itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Problem

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially all my knowledge of Star Wars comes from fanon (canon? pfft, what's that?), so please forgive me if I massacre the universe.

When Obi-Wan came to Qui-Gon with the matter, Qui-Gon found himself surprised. Not surprised by ‘the matter’—no, Obi-Wan’s poorly shielded dreaming had made _that_ quite clear. But Qui-Gon had, as usual, under-estimated his nineteen-year-old padawan’s forthrightness. It was a lesson he was perpetually in the process of reassessing.

“Master,” Obi-Wan began with no preamble whatsoever as Qui-Gon sat down to the (rather large, now that Qui-Gon took note) meal Obi-Wan had prepared, “I would like to speak with you of something which has interfered with my training. A problem—a—a _failure_ which I’m not sure I can continue anymore to…”

Obi-Wan flushed as his tongue quickly began to betray him, and Qui-Gon’s doubts about which topic was now at hand dispersed. The time had come to address this head on. Really, he was a foolish master to let it go on this long without attention. Avoidance was a form of ignorance, not to be indulged. Qui-Gon picked up his fork with one hand and reached over with his other to briefly grasp Obi-Wan’s twitching forearm.

“Obi-Wan, I can tell you are afraid to tell me of this…problem….you are having,” Qui-Gon spoke in what he hoped were his most soothing Master tones. “I assure you, though, you have nothing to fear in sharing with me.”

“But Master, I—it—you don’t know what…” Obi-Wan trailed off guiltily, and stared at Qui-Gon, momentarily unnerved.

“Have you killed anyone?” Qui-Gon put forth helpfully, spearing a tuber on his fork and gesturing vaguely with it.

 “No,” replied Obi-Wan sadly, looking away from Qui-Gon and down at the table.

Qui-Gon munched slowly on the tuber—Obi-Wan really was excellent at spicing them—and continued. “Have you failed a class? Or have you offended Master Yoda?”

“No, and no, Master.” Obi-Wan continued frowning at the table, oblivious to his own tubers.

“Did you forget to water my Pu’ata plant?”

At this Obi-Wan begrudgingly rolled his eyes and finally looked up at Qui-Gon. “No, Master. I wouldn’t dare.”

Qui-Gon smiled at this small success and then adopted a more serious tone. “Have you violated the Jedi Code?”

Obi-Wan quailed visibly at this question, and for a moment Qui-Gon was worried his apprentice wouldn’t be able to go through with speaking his mind tonight. But then Obi-Wan squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Ahh, yes. Here it came. The Kenobi directness which so often left Qui-Gon both appalled and awed at once.

“Yes, Master. I _have_ violated the code. Seriously and unforgiveably, in multiple ways. I have formed an attachment. I have let myself be overrun with passion. I have fallen to these impulses of the Dark Side without ever bringing them to the attention of my master. I have thus deceived my master, lied by omission, and betrayed the guidelines of trust between master and padawan. I—“

Obi-Wan paused for breath, and Qui-Gon speared another tuber expectantly.

“—I have fallen in _love_ with you, Master,” Obi-Wan stated the words as though they indicted him of every sin, then finally sat back in silence, awaiting his dire judgment.

Qui-Gon finished chewing, allowing himself that last bit of time to continue to consider his next words with care, then set down the fork and folded his hands contemplatively. “Obi-Wan,” he began. But Obi-Wan immediately interrupted.

“Master, please. I know these violations are unworthy of a padawan and you will undoubtedly disown me after tonight. I know that you must find this confession unpleasant to hear, abhorrent even—“

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon tried again. But Obi-Wan was not one to be silenced.

“But since my failure to grapple with this is already complete, total and irreversible, I felt I—I couldn’t—I felt that you must know. My feelings. I couldn’t bear that you think this failure your fault when really it’s…it’s anything but. I have nothing but the best of feelings for you, Master, _my_ best feelings, and I want you to know that so that when we part—“

“Obi-Wan,” this time Qui-Gon’s voice was stern and brooked no interruption.

Obi-Wan deflated in his seat, as if popped all at once by self-doubt. “Yes, Master?” he replied obediently. 

Qui-Gon stood. This would take a level of clear communication which was hard to attain around a cluttered kitchen table. Or maybe he just wanted to stand for a moment. “Please come with me to the living room.”

The so-called living room was a mostly open space with a couch and a chair for sociality by the entranceway to their quarters, and a pair of meditation mats for daily exercises by the large windows facing outwards over Coruscant. Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan to their mats, and settled down into a cross-legged pose which Obi-Wan instinctively matched. The setting sun of Coruscant illuminated Obi-Wan’s tense features, and Qui-Gon could see in his face the uncertainty rapidly unfurling within him.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon began cautiously. “I need you to listen to me carefully. There is much here for us to discuss, and much which could be misunderstood. I need your attention right now, can you give it to me?”

Obi-Wan responded to the formality in Qui-Gon’s tone as Qui-Gon had hoped and lifted his head deferentially, making the eye contact Qui-Gon implicitly demanded. “Yes, Master,” he intoned.

Qui-Gon nodded and continued. “I have been remiss as your master if I’ve let you think that love is a violation of the code.” He could see Obi-Wan processing that and cut off the moment before his padawan could extrapolate too far. “Just as I would be remiss as your master to let you think these kinds of feelings can be reciprocated during the time of your training.”

Obi-Wan glared at this immediately. “But if love is not a vio—“

“These statements are not in contradiction, Padawan,” Qui-Gon cut him off firmly. “They are an elucidation of the boundaries which contain us, you and I, at this moment in time. Love is a wonderful thing, Obi-Wan.

“Even passion, while a converse to serenity, is not to be dismissed as a direct path to the Dark Side. These are aspects of nature, and of ourselves, which nourish us as much as they tempt us. The danger of temptation—of instability—that is what the code warns us against, but not that nourishment. Never that.”

He paused and waited until Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted up to him again then stated clearly, “I am honored by the love you feel for me.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched at that and he breathed in through his nose forcefully. “Do you love me, Master?” he asked after a labored pause.

Qui-Gon steeled himself for honesty. _Avoidance is a form of ignorance._ “Obi-Wan, I do love you, but not as you would wish right now. I love you as my padawan, I love you as a fellow Jedi, and I…” Qui-Gon skipped just a beat, feeling unexpected reticence. “I love you as my friend. You have been my closest companion for many years now, and I trust you with my life.” He allowed himself a lopsided grin. “You are perhaps the best friend your solitary master has these days.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes opened wide at that and Qui-Gon forced himself to continue speaking clearly. “But Obi-Wan, I cannot consider you as a lover at this time. Which I think,” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement of the details which had remained unspoken by his padawan, “is how you define your…problem.”

Obi-Wan’s head bowed at that, but Qui-Gon knew his padawan wasn’t finished pushing. He held his breath as Obi-Wan gathered himself for his next solar flare.

“But could you love me, Master? Like that, I mean,” Obi-Wan quickly corrected, vaguely acknowledging his master’s other subtle love distinctions. “Once I was knighted, for instance? Or made a senior padawan?” Obi-Wan leaned forward, latching fatalistically onto that Force-damned Kenobi bluntness. “Could you love me eventually, if I wait and perform well as a padawan?”

Qui-Gon sighed, but was inwardly calmed by Obi-Wan’s directness. Directness could be dealt with. “Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon made sure they were maintaining eye contact before continuing. “As much as you might feel otherwise, I don’t think you want me to answer that question right now.” Obi-Wan sagged at that and Qui-Gon carried on quickly, “And not for the reasons you think. Necessarily.”

“Why then? Is it my feelings you’re worried about? My reaction? I know—I know what your answer is, really. And I’ll be—”

“You can’t know that which I myself don’t yet know, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes squinted at this. “You don’t—how can you not know your own feelings?”

Qui-Gon suppressed his urge to smile at Obi-Wan’s guilelessness. “Obi-Wan, you will learn eventually that not all emotions must be clarified.” His padawan looked highly skeptical of this idea. “Just as not all impulses must be followed, so too can we cultivate which parts of ourselves we explore. To ask a question is to plant a seed, and to probe in self-inquiry is to water that seed so that we may see what grows.

“I choose not to plant this seed yet, Obi-Wan. That is a choice I am capable of making.”

Obi-Wan was silent at this.

“At this moment in time, there is no answer to this question which we would benefit from. To look within myself and find an attraction for you would bring us only pain. It would mean either a deprivation which would fuel resentment, or a satiation which would endanger our training bond. And to look within myself and find nothing?” Qui-Gon quieted for a moment. “The future is always in motion, but the present is where that motion stops. If I were to weigh in on this matter now, the possibilities of our future might solidify into the limiting realities of now.”

Obi-Wan remained silent still, but Qui-Gon could tell this was due to thinking not withholding. Finally, he spoke. “But what about me, Master? What do I do about my…seed?”

Qui-Gon’s lips quirked. “You have planted it.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s pout suggested that he questioned Qui-Gon’s mental aptitude a bit.

“Well then, you have created a living thing and there is no good done in neglecting it.” Qui-Gon readjusted his posture and glanced over at the windows, debating for a moment the best form for this lesson to take. An idea came to him as he watched the night’s lights gradually turn on over the now dark Coruscant cityscape, and he turned back to Obi-Wan. 

“Often the cravings of desire are rooted in obscurity, Padawan. We think we want a specific thing, but our want itself occludes our vision. It creates a cloud, through which we are sure we must battle to reach our supposed goal. When we see through this cloud, however, we often find that our goal itself was an illusion—that the mist of desire was all there ever was. We must strive to disperse this cloud, Obi-Wan, for with this blindness comes your fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” Obi-Wan said automatically.

Qui-Gon lifted both his eyebrows in silent askance until Obi-Wan conceded the point and moved on to his next attempt at rebuttal. “But what if the goal is not ephemeral, Master? What if there really is something, or—or someone special after all?”

“In that case,” Qui-Gon tilted his head in consideration. “In that case dispersing the cloud reveals this special thing more clearly, and our efforts are similarly rewarded.” Qui-Gon steepled his fingers together then self-deprecatingly raised an eyebrow. “It may be that you have found something special, Obi-Wan. Or it may be that what you want, in truth, has nothing to do with the old master you find yourself cooped up with during all your days. Either way, we must dispel your fear.”

“How—how will we do that, Master?”

“Right now, you are afraid of your desires, Obi-Wan. You are afraid to share them with me, for fear I might reject them, and you are afraid to share them with yourself—to examine them closely—for fear _you_ might reject them. As your master, I know that neither of these fears is merited. There is nothing you could imagine of me, Padawan, that would shock me at my age. And there is nothing,” Qui-Gon’s voice softened, “nothing of your imagination I would find so abhorrent as to stop our training. I have similar faith in your reception of yourself. You would not hate what you see, Obi-Wan. In fact, you’d probably rather enjoy better knowledge of your fantasies.”

He cleared his throat at that. “The privacy of your thoughts is your right, and thus I place no requirements on you in this matter. However, if you feel up to it, I challenge you with the following exercise: meditate on your desires, visualize them deliberately, examine in detail these things you think of as love. And when you feel very clear on any specific feature, come and share what you have seen of it with me. These desires may remain fantasies indefinitely, Padawan, but we will share them as they are and shine what light on them we can. They will not disempower you through fear of them, and they will not come between us through avoidance of them.”


	2. Initial Research

Of course, Obi-Wan returned with an enlightment much sooner than Qui-Gon expected. Three days after his challenge was issued, Obi-Wan entered their living room with a pot of Qui-Gon’s favorite tea, two teacups, and face full of sheer determination. Qui-Gon readied himself with a long sip of the spicy red tea then reclined openly back on the couch in encouragement.

“Master,” Obi-Wan began formally. “I ask permission to share more thoughts with you on the topic we discussed the other day.” Qui-Gon nodded his acceptance and Obi-Wan continued. “I have meditated as you requested, with a focus on visualization. As you suggested,” Obi-Wan hurried to add, slightly raising Qui-Gon’s suspicions of what was to come. “I believe I can share some of my thoughts more clearly now.”

‘Thoughts,’ it turned out, was at best a euphemism. The tale which proceeded to stumble out of Obi-Wan’s lips stretched even Qui-Gon’s estimation of his padawan’s skill at candor. The living room couch was involved in the narrative, as was eventually the chair. Somehow. It was all a tad geometrically questionable. The role of either of their pants in the goings on was entirely ambiguous, however remarkably clear in contrast were Obi-Wan’s plans for Qui-Gon’s hair. Of that there could be no doubt.

When Obi-Wan finished relaying his remarkable fantasy, in which—Qui-Gon belatedly realized—a truly disturbing lack of lubrication was involved, and after what Qui-Gon hoped was a respectable pause for digesting this new information, Qui-Gon spoke. “Obi-Wan, I had no idea how much we had neglected your sexual education.”

This was clearly not the response Obi-Wan was aiming for, but Qui-Gon felt it was his duty to be honest.

“I told you I have been remiss in teaching you of the acceptance of love, and clearly this has been another consequence of that failure of mine. Padawan, I think we need to prioritize this area of your education immediately, before you hurt someone!”

Qui-Gon meant those last words in light jest, but Obi-Wan winced all the same. Before Obi-Wan could feel the sting of mockery, Qui-Gon interjected. “Thank you for sharing this, Obi-Wan. Although my reaction was perhaps not what you wished, neither was it what you feared, was it?”

Obi-Wan shook his head guardedly at that, but after gradually sensing the genuine friendliness of master's amusement allowed himself a small, tentative smile. “No, Master. I suppose it’s not what I expected at all.”

“There we are then. I think you are capable of educating yourself more on some of the physical practicalities of what you have described to me. The resources of the Temple, and its other denizens—” at that Qui-Gon made a pointed gesture with his teacup, “—may be of use to you. I look forward to hearing more of your thoughts after your research.”

 

* * *

This time, Obi-Wan’s ‘sharing’ did take its time in resurfacing. Nearly a month passed and Qui-Gon had just begun to wonder if perhaps Obi-Wan’s research had led him to discover the outlet of a suitable peer—the most likely way Qui-Gon guessed his padawan’s fervor was destined to abate—when Obi-Wan cornered him again with a familiar expression. 

“Master, are you busy?” Obi-Wan asked, his face a unique blend of determination, trepidation, and excitement.

Qui-Gon was arguably very busy, staring out the window and brooding with his tea over his recent sparring defeat with Mace. However, he supposed he could set that activity aside for now. “No, Obi-Wan, I’m all yours.”

“I ask permission to share more thoughts with you,” Obi-Wan stated, not bothering to clarify on what.

“Of course, Obi-Wan.”

And so began one of the most impressive orations Qui-Gon had ever witnessed his verbally gifted padawan undertake. This time around the focal points of Obi-Wan’s clarity, so to speak, had increased greatly in number. Qui-Gon’s hair was still allotted its finer details, but so too now were myriad other supposed features of Obi-Wan’s master. The role of pants was absolutely spelled out over the course of at least two minutes of what could kindly be termed ‘exposition.’ Qui-Gon’s proposed physical dimensions were similarly specified (and, it later turned out, highly relevant to the plot). Lube was now an element, thankfully given Qui-Gon’s imaginary girth, but the balance had perhaps swung too far on that point. Qui-Gon couldn’t help but imagine the giant pools of oil that Obi-Wan’s maneuvers were, hypothetically, leaving all over Qui-Gon’s usually well-maintained bed.

Qui-Gon listened in awe for quite some time, watching with a rather odd but undeniable sense of pride as Obi-Wan’s initial reserve gradually gave way to confident gesticulations. However, after being fictionally granted his fourth orgasm in twice as many minutes, Qui-Gon could hold himself back no longer.

“By the Force, Obi-Wan, where in the Galaxy have you been undertaking your research?”

Obi-Wan was visibly confused as to whether to take that as a compliment or a criticism. With hesitant optimism, he tried guessing the former. “Well…” he started slowly. He scratched the back of his head before continuing, a dead giveaway that somewhere deep inside he knew his response was not a winner. “You know,” he flapped his arms out a little like his master should really know. “The HoloNet…of course.”

Qui-Gon did know. Of course. But Obi-Wan wasn’t the only one who took pleasure in elucidating obscene details. “Pornographic holovids then?”

Obi-Wan stood rebelliously straighter at that. “I would hardly call them pornographic.”

“Explicit three-dimensional chronicles of humanoids engaged in sexual acts?”

“There were plots involved!” Obi-Wan responded as though it were a counterpoint.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow skeptically and Obi-Wan shifted on his feet. “Romance, Master. Explicit three-dimensional _romance_ holovids.”

Qui-Gon lifted his hands in neutrality. “Labels, Obi-Wan. But there is no shame in either.” Obi-Wan’s expression evinced a fair amount of shame still, but Qui-Gon plowed on to his intended point, guessing that the best lesson for this moment was in the trees not the forest. “Regardless of their designation, these holovids are works of fiction, are they not?”

Obi-Wan frowned at that, sensing a trap. “Yes, Master.”

“As works of fiction, do you think they accurately capture the realities of sexuality and unscripted intercourse?”

“Ummm….maybe?” Obi-Wan cleared his throat then tried again with more fortitude. “Fiction is one of our most advanced tools for expressing and communicating reality, especially in the social sphere.”

Qui-Gon had to credit Obi-Wan for that answer, but perhaps it was time to lead his padawan out of the flexible land of rhetoric. Clarity. Details. “Obi-Wan. Do you think my cock is nine inches long and capable of orgasming four times in a ten minute period?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open in a comical gape. “Master!” he cried uselessly.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon cried back. “Although pornography—” he corrected himself, “—although _romance_ may be capable of capturing certain elements of reality, have you considered that the tendency of entertainment is also to express itself in extremes? The holovid actors you viewed have been culled from planets across the Galaxy. They are the statistical outliers of their species, as unique and rare in their sexual gifts as the Jedi are in their attunement with the Force.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “The holovid actors aren’t generally Force sensitive, are they?”

“No.” Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan’s mind connecting the clunky puzzle pieces Qui-Gon had handed him.

“And Jedi masters,” Obi-Wan paused for effect and Qui-Gon suddenly noticed a tiny glimmer beginning to form in his padawan’s eye. “Jedi masters don’t usually have large cocks capable of multiple orgasms.”

It was Qui-Gon’s turn to suspect a trap. “In general I would say that the Jedi masters endowed with male genitalia tend to have…healthy cocks which fall well within the averages of their species.” Qui-Gon sensed in his own defensiveness that it was time to reclaim control over this lesson. “You have seen me naked many times, Obi-Wan, you have a rough anatomical outline of what you might expect my body to look like. But if your desire is for that body to behave in any way like the holovid stars you have studied, you will find only disappointment.”

“That is not my desire,” Obi-Wan responded immediately.

“Then why have you described it as such?” Qui-Gon asked and he could tell Obi-Wan was stumped. He moved forward and placed his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder in reassurance. “Meditate on that and we will revisit this topic when you have more insight.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan nodded soberly and walked pensively out of the living room.

Qui-Gon had just enough time to congratulate himself on what seemed to have been a successful lesson and turn back towards the window for more tea-fueled staring before Obi-Wan returned.

“I wished to impress you.” Obi-Wan declared.

“Excuse me?” Qui-Gon asked, thrown by the abrupt addition.

Obi-Wan’s expression held a fascinating mixture of earnestness and almost scholarly excitement over whatever realization he’d just had. “That is why I described my desires in this fashion. I wished to impress you, Master. With my sexual knowledge, and my—” Obi-Wan’s face colored slightly. “—my possible skills.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but be touched by this, and he placed his hand again on Obi-Wan’s shoulder to convey that. “I assure you, you _have_ impressed me, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon chuckled softly, “Immensely.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes lit up, and Qui-Gon reached up instinctively to his Padawan braid and tugged on it lightly before tucking it behind his ear and continuing with his educational obligations. “You have nothing to fear about your ability to impress me. But you cannot convey a wisdom which you do not yet have.”

“I think I understand, Master.”

Obi-Wan’s expression was inscrutable, and Qui-Gon wanted to be sure. “The conceits of fiction can create false expectations, which lead many to pursue dreams that they will never find the materialization of in reality. Ask yourself whether it is fiction or reality that drives your emotions. ”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan began to walk away then turned back yet once more. “Master? May I ask you one last question?”

“Of course, my Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon replied.

Obi-Wan grinned impishly at him for a flash of a moment then asked in his best studious-padawan voice, “Are you sure your body can’t perform in _any_ way like the holovid stars?” He fled before Qui-Gon could subject him to the withering glare he was working to muster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is _almost_ done...except for my urge to change it completely. So, high hopes for another update soon.


End file.
